End of Me
by Tristana
Summary: Sebastian likes to rub it in and Eric is the ideal prey./My take on what could have happened after Alan's death. Angst, boy's love and dub/non-con.


Title: End of Me

Reason why: Sebastian and Eric don't get enough love, man! (Well, I don't think they do. People, get to your pens!) Related to the 2nd Kuroshitsuji Musical (why I nearly wrote funeral is lost to me but Undertaker would know...). And more precisely, to Sebastian's song, when Alan dies... or something... http:/ www. /watch?v= 6tmuiaX3uJQ . I have played this for three days non stop. (The reason why I wrote this.)

Summary: Set during/after the song in the musical (though it must be somehow AU because well... I don't really know if Sebastian would actually do it). It is written from Eric's point of view.

Warning: Boy's "love" (no love in it but you get the idea), dub-con (or even non-con, due to mind

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><p>He could not bear it – the guilt of not having been able to protect the person he cared the most for. The regret of having dealt him a fatal blow – that of not having collected enough soul for him. And the demon lurking nearby, hidden by the shades – he could feel the air rippling where he was. Taunting him – reminding him – he had failed. All that he had done – in vain. He had chased the darkness swirling around him, choking him – but to what use? To see the face of the man who will be the death of him – what did he care anymore, anyway?<p>

Cold hands around his neck, pressing his windpipe – harsh, choking pain. The despair has wormed its way in his system and he could not fight it. Fear prickled his skin, making him want to crawl out of it – shinigami were not afraid of demons, but this one... Something cold brushed his throat, fleeting moment of dread – the notion of sharp fangs dragging on his skin. His clothes itched him and he wanted to run away – his limbs would not obey, lead legs leaving rooted on the spot – unable to rise again from the ground where he had sunk earlier.

"All you did – was in vain. All those innocents – in vain." The venom of those words dripped into his ear, invading, clawing at him. And those hands... how did they slip from his neck to his chest – the near soundless rustle of rending clothes. Biting into his flesh – ice cold – pain throbbing from his side. His chest was aching, guilt still gnawing at his inside like a starved dog. Cerberus. His eyes closed for an instant, thinking the end to be near. Let him sleep, let him drown – and forget how it all came to this. Alan was lying somewhere, dying or dead already – he had to be with him. A cracking whimper was all that could tear from his throat, speech robbed from him. Lips close to his ear – why? What was happening? Why didn't he kill him already?

"If I killed you now, you would forget..." Eyes glowing a fiery red, delving into his soul and tearing him apart – blinding pain in his skull, racking his bones. Guilt – it was blooming in his heart and spread like poison in his veins. The hands, they gave him to release, clawing at him, scratching – marked by a demon whom he should have killed. And still desperation – could not reach for the scythe – it was no use. He deserved this – he deserved the pain. Sharp nails – he could count them on his body, distinct in the mess of his senses. Highlighted in blood on a blank canvas. Each strike drew another line – soon it will be in drenched, unrecognisable tatters. Darkness seemed to engulf him, brushing against him in a way that almost made him think it was under his skin and not on it – or maybe it was the case? Thoughts eluded him as a mouth latched itself on the base of his neck, biting so deeply he could feel the teeth brushed against his vertebrae – sickening pain and sounds – and still, the nearly apologetic caress of a tongue drawing the blood away. Were those images he really saw or where they painted in his mind eye? It should not have been a demon, touching him and uncovering his skin – never! It should have been Alan – why was it not him? Why was it denied to him – to them? Why? Fangs dragging on his spine, icy feeling enveloping him, like hands and lips, tearing broken sobs from him – he did not want this, why him?

"Shinigami should learn – fate is not theirs to decide. Only demons can pretend to forego all humanity to do as they desire. But you, Eric-san, you are just a man... and I would like you to see, to know – what you could have had, if only you had been wiser." _There is no sense in asking why, for there is no reason._

The wooden planks were hard under his knees, making him want to lie down, if only to prevent the demon from having a full access to his body – and those liquid darkness – water rushing around him. The faint sound of feathers – and still this devilish mouth and hands, roaming free – scratching and caressing in turns, wringing coherent thoughts from him – it was wrong, oh-so wrong. Part of him wanted to lie, to think it was not the demon Sebastian Michaelis, but someone else – and the other part welcomed his touch, as degrading as it could be to his sanity – it was the proof that all this was real and would come to an end. Something covered his face, air suddenly lacking – panic – and what felt like hands rushing down his chest and back – ripping his flesh apart – the strong metallic scent invading his nostrils – sickening. Breath, cold against his lips – pitch black darkness – lips against his, a touch too intimate to be that of a demon he sought to destroy. It could not be him, the part of him wanting to believe that a future was still possible – it wanted to believe it was Alan who was back. Oh, how could it have been, if Alan had known and accepted – how happy he would have been. But this tongue invading his mouth was too cold, the kiss too demanding, bruising – eyes snapping open but nothing could be seen – aside from the haunting face of his foe. He was lost – losing himself in the darkness and unable to find the way out – but maybe he wanted this. Abandoning the restraint that shaped his life as a shinigami – to let go of all that tied him to an existence in which he had no place. Fists clenched, not wanting to let it go down the drain – Alan's life should have been saved – his soul, kept and treasured...

And that voice seemed to flow through him – _it is useless, you cannot fight this. Let go – let it take you away. _What was he to do? He was on fire, at the mercy of a demon who only wanted his demise. Teeth crashing against his collarbone, ready to snap – hands reaching and pulling at him – were those screams he heard really his? Or was it all an illusion? Was this dreadful pleasure the effect of a drugged mind or was it really tearing from him, ripping him apart? Was the death offered by demons supposed to be like this? He had lived his life, as best as he could – but it seemed that demons always were ahead of them all in that regard. And he could not even tell if it was a complaint or not. The hot rush of his blood fuelled his lust, for this was precisely it. Hurtful longing for something he had wanted to cherish that now transformed into a desperate need to get it over with. He thought he knew how it would end and all he could do was to precipitate it – he wanted the ordeal to end. His body was not his own to command, he was but a puppet on snapping strings, reacting but not acting, subjected to constraints he did not have the strength to fight anymore. Down on the hard floor, he could but let Sebastian do what he would.

"Truly, guilt is the best chain to enslave a man..." A soft spoken musing, as if not meant for his own ears, before blinding shock ripped him – a pain so terrifying it made him breathless. The burn turned to scorching heat, swallowing him whole as he tried vainly to crawl away – claws gripping his flanks, hips thighs – preventing him from escaping. Hazy stare looking at this face too beautiful to be that of an angel, the eyes that spoke of Hell's worst torments – and he was trapped. To relinquish all control – to lose himself in the furnace of that demon's embrace – his blood dripping from wounds too deep to let him live. The pleasure, for it was just that, unwanted yet craved pleasure, that coursed through him as opium would, deadening the feeling of loss, intensifying the regrets until they came to fuel it again, this feeling tore at his body, wrecked his very self. And when it will all grow dark, he would welcome it with open arms and a relieved sigh. At last...

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><p>I hope you enjoyed the read, or if you didn't, please tell me why. Anons, I love you but please leave me an address for me to reply, it would be much appreciated.<p> 


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